Twisted
by the Unrequited Lover
Summary: Gabriel Van Helsing wouldn't have entered that portal if he'd known that 16th century Transylvania was the other side. Vladislaus Dracula wouldn't have had Russa join him hunting if he'd known it’d open a window to their twisted past…
1. Forever is a Long Time

**Transylvania, 1467**

**H**e could take no more of the nights of dancing with many fair women and then leaving, playing games with them. He could no longer stand the painted wings and fancy things and frilly lace dresses they wore...he needed, truly, something to do.  His mind was spinning more rapidly than the skirts of the girls laughing giddily on his arms, drowning him in misery and damnation.

He went out into the world then, out in a rage, or perhaps just boredom, who was he to say? He terrorised the villages and laughed as the townspeople screamed, and then went on to crush their faith...he went to defile their church.

Yes, it would cause him pain to enter, but he took no heed of that sensation, of any sensation, and instead walked right through into the cathedral where so many of them huddled whispering. They had thought they could be safe from him. They were very, very wrong.

He flew through and halted in front of the priest, who stood before a group of them all bowing in frantic prayer to God, the same God who had so hated him. The holy man held out a crucifix and stammered out words to hold him back. He laughed and snatched the item away from him and threw it through a window, shattering it. The firelight from the destruction he had caused lit up the jewellike glass and his eyes flashed demonically as he drained the priest of his blood before the horrified peasants. Surely this was the end. Surely none would survive.

And they were right in one thing. He did not truly need to feed anymore, the young priest had been quite enough. But there were the children of the night to think about, the wolves at his command, and the little rats and crawling things that obeyed him. He left the stench of fear and death in his wake and nothing stopped him. It was enough to hear them cry to excite him.

Then he heard a voice weeping, pleading him for mercy. He knew it, and had he any heartbeat, that would have deadened it.

He leapt over a corpse and knelt before the wretched girl. She was dying, and he knew it. Brushing the hair out of her face, he stared into her eyes. It couldn't be...but she was with him, wasn't she?

Unless he had left her. He shook his head scornfully. He always knew he'd leave her. She really should have listened.

He scooped her up into his arms carelessly and she struggled, her eyes widening in fear, before she fell unconscious. Then he stepped out of the burning church and watched nonchalantly the discord before him.

People were screaming, although the screams were less than they had been as many had died, babies were crying, wolves were howling...he felt oddly content for a moment, before his mind was consumed by dissatisfaction at the sight of such things that were, to a being like himself, only trivial.

A moan escaped from the girl's parted lips. He glanced down at her. Maybe it would be better to let her die. Better for her, better for him... but that would be letting _him_ win. An ugly look crossed his face. He'd never lose....never.

He looked to the new moon, knowing through instinct where she was although most could not see her when she was newly born, and willed himself to transform. His body shifted and he took to flight, stretching his powerful black wings as he soared. If anyone had looked at the sky, they would have seen only a dark blot, blocking out the pinpricks of stars behind him.

The formidable black gates meant nothing to him. He simply flew right over them and landed. Still carrying the girl in his arms, he strode briskly into the Castle and set about to healing her.

**B**ut she was dying. It was obvious to him that she would not last. How could she possibly last, when she had been so terribly wounded? He shut his eyes, frowning slightly. It was odd that he had not notised her before when he'd obviously hit her with whatever had caused the injury...he sat on the bed beside her and put his hand on her bound stomach. It had been a bad cut, and it had been deep. It was unfair, really; he smoothed her dark hair back. It was slick with sweat, and her skin was hot and feverish. It would not be long now. He cursed beneath his breath.

But there was a way to save her, he realised, although he doubted she would like it. She had left in the first place because she had merely discovered how it was that he had returned. If she became the same...but then, if she were the same as he, she would not fear him. He thought about it, and the more he thought, the more he liked the idea.

He stroked his chin. He was rather bored with being alone, now that he thought of it.

She was conscious, but delirious. He touched her shoulder gently and she cried out in her delirium. He motioned one of his Dwergi over with a vial of medicine, then ordered him out of the room. He was a medical genius, and it was obvious to him and anyone else who could think of it. He took the vial and dipped the needle into it, then plunged the needle into her arm.

She gasped and tried to sit up, but she was too weak. She saw him and frowned slightly, squinting, as though she could not see him well.

"Who are you?" she asked. "How did I get here?"

He touched the tip of his finger to her lips. "Russa," he said, his voice deep and virile, his accent a growl in the back of his throat. "It has been so long."

Her expression changed from confusion to relief and she cried, "Vlad!" He held her close to him and whispered into her ear, "I have missed you."

"And I you," she replied fiercely, her strength not what it usually was. She was glad to see him. It was a good sign. Perhaps she did not remember what he was, nor would she care.

"Did Gabriel treat you well?" he asked, sounding casual enough, but cautious. She pulled back, unsure, frowning faintly as though trying to recall a dream.

"Gabriel?" she repeated.

He shook his head; she must have suffered from some form of amnesia. If so, there was a good chance Gabriel did not remember anything, either.

She shrugged, unaffected, and remained quite close to him. It was apparent to him that something troubled her a little.

"You haven't any heartbeat," she said slowly, and pressed her hand to his chest as though she would be able to feel it suddenly, as though it had always been there and she had been hallucinating.

"No, I haven't," he said carefully, looking down at her, his head still high. "Do you remember why?"

She thought, and as she fell upon the answer, her eyes shot open.

He smiled heartlessly. She had stumbled upon the reason.

She tried to sit up again, but she was far too weak. She finally gave up and pressed a hand to her stomach. Her breathing became shallow and she coughed up a few specks of blood onto his face. He touched his jaw where his features had been barely marred by the red liquid and licked it off his finger thoughtfully, as though it had been spilt honey.

"I'm dying," she said quietly. He nodded and she sighed. "I knew it," she said mournfully, and fell silent. They sat like that for a few minutes, and he looked out of a massive window, out at the sky. The full moon burned brightly in his vision, and he was mildly amazed at how she'd lasted for an entire month.

A thought struck him, one that had never occurred to him before: he'd regret it when she died. He glanced over at her, and sensed that she'd regret it, too.

"Russa," he remarked lightly, his accent heavy. Her fatigued eyes looked up at him. He felt her gaze, and looked at her with an ominous smile, his expression rather resembling something that looked sickeningly like triumph.

"There is another way," he went on slowly. "You would not be alive, but...you would not be dead, either." She looked up at him.

"You can not be serious," she said finally.

He sighed and stood up. "But I am, Russa," he continued, hands behind his back. ""Think of it—we could be together again, you and I.. this time forever."

She thought for a while. What did damnation mean to a creature that 't...would never die?

"Forever is a very long time," she said doubtfully. He took her hands in his own. "Not long enough," he said softly, and smiled deviously at her.   
She took a deep breath and nodded. He held out his hands to her and she took them dubiously, and he drew her small frame to his.

"This may hurt a little," he murmured, and she watched in morbid fascination as his canines elongated, becoming fangs. Sleepily, as though her will was not her own, she let her head fall back, exposing her neck. Her gaze became unfocused and she felt his mouth come nearer to her bared throat, his breath hot on her skin. A tingling sensation overcame her when she felt the sharp tips of the extended incisors press against the sensitive area, then sink in. She cried out, but he cradled her and she became very still. It no longer pained her. In fact, it felt intoxicating. He brought his mouth away and looked at her contentedly. She could feel herself grow stronger, her energy return. It was all so much...

She looked around at herself, at the room, at him. She felt so powerful, and she loved it. Russa let out a delighted laugh and he laughed with her, linking arms with her and leading her into the hall to the top of a magnificent stairway.

"Welcome to your new home," he said. she gazed at the glorious ceiling, the brilliant surroundings, astounded, breathless.

"I hope you enjoy it here, Russa," he mentioned, then added, "_Countess _Russa."

**Dedicated to mustang-grl, author of _A Saint At My Side and a Demon In My Arms.  _**

**Russa is pronounced _Roosa, _with a soft s sound and not a z. Think of the Transylvanian accent and you're cool.**


	2. The Beautiful Lady

**Transylvania, 1890**

**R**unning. It seemed to him that he was always running from something or another, whether it was gargoyles, escaped madmen, or himself. Chasing. He was, strangely, doing a lot of that, too. He chased monsters all the time but he chased memories in his sleep. Sometimes he wished he hadn't killed Dracula. Then he wouldn't have had to chase his past like a shadow, or run away from the guilt and the memory of the death of the last of the Valerious. It was interesting how he had come so close to burying that fact only to head back to the Vatican in Rome from Germany only to be told he needed to go back to Transylvania to slay a vampire. Another one. It never ended, did it?

And here he was again, in a Transylvanian town. Standing with Carl in the street while a crowd formed a ring around him anxiously, waiting to hear what he had to say. They were almost as broken-hearted concerning the Valerious tragedy as he. Van Helsing inspected the deep, vicious marks on the side of the young man's neck, the angry red gashes where his blood had been drained. He sighed. He wanted as much as they did for the perpetrator to be something, anything other than a vampire. Unfortunately, it wasn't exactly his choice. He bowed his head and crossed himself, then opened his eyes and glanced at the insignificant, barely notisable object beside the man. He had known it would be there. At least there seemed to be only one.

He had been told it would be there. It had been at the site of every victim. He picked the blood-spotted handkerchief up and inspected it. It looked as though it had been used to wipe away the remnants of a meal, which it probably had.

He heaved another sigh and stood up slowly. Addressing the crowd, he said, "I'm afraid it is, indeed, a vampire." The crowd whispered frantically, like trapped rats.

"Is Dracula back?" asked a fearful woman from the left in a loud voice. More voices, growing louder. Van Helsing took a deep voice and raised his voice so as to be heard above the mob.

"It is not Dracula," he said, "nor was it any of his brides." He knew it was true. He would have remembered one of them being so meticulous as to bring around so many lace handkerchiefs for every time they fed. "I promise you I shall find the creature and kill it."

A cheer rose from the gathering. Van Helsing nodded his head as closure of the vow, then turned his attention to Carl. The friar was kneeling before a large cloth bag, looking for the things they would need. He had brought a lot of everything, just to be certain they could kill whatever was there.

"Ah...let me see," he muttered to himself. "Holy Water, crucifix, silver stakes, garlic- lots and lots of garlic- ah, some more silver stakes-"

"Come on, Friar," Van Helsing interrupted. Carl jumped and dropped a flask of Holy Water, then looked up and ruffled his hair. "Oh, Van Helsing, it's you," he said, sounding slightly relieved.

Van Helsing nodded, and held out his hand to the other. "Let's head out. It's daylight, after all."

Carl nodded absent-mindedly. "Oh, yes...er, what does that have to do with anything?"

"We can hunt them down without them hunting us as well," explained Van Helsing with a smile. "I find it preferable to the chance that they'll attack us."

Carl thought, then grinned sheepishly. "Of course! And I have some interesting facts to tell you about the vampire."

Van Helsing slung the sack over his broad shoulder and said, "Well, speak, Carl. We'll need all the help we can get." He began walking down the street.

Carl hurried to catch up with him and said, "Well, we already know that all the attacks happened in this general area, but the earliest ones happened right around..." he pointed to a dark cluster of trees a ways away. "That forest."

Van Helsing groaned. "No surprises there. What else?"

"Well, there is a family- just one- that lives on the edge of that forest. They have two children- a nine year old son, Hertis, and a five year old daughter, Marishka."

Van Helsing looked at Carl. There were pieces of this puzzle, but he wasn't sure how they fit together. "Marishka? But isn't that the name of-?"

"One of Dracula's brides, yes," Carl confirmed. "The one you killed, actually."

Van Helsing nodded thoughtfully. "Go on."

"Well, the children like to play in that forest. They've never notised anything like this before, and you would think they would, which suggests this creature just moved here."

"Or was just created," cut in Van Helsing. "All right then, is that it?"

"The boy and the girl say they have seen a figure walking through the trees lately. The boy was afraid, but the girl stays out late. Her parents say nothing has happened to her."

Van Helsing shook his head, frowning. "It doesn't make sense."

"I'll say it doesn't," Carl agreed. "But at least we know where to look for this beast."

"Before we do, I think I'd like to talk to the family, particularly the little girl," Van Helsing said firmly. "We might learn something, we might not, but it's worth a try."

Carl nodded. "Yes. It's worth a try."

"**M**ama, mama, look," they heard a little girl's voice call from the yard as they approached the small house. "There's two men outside!"

Van Helsing walked up to the gate and set the bag down. A woman came out suspiciously, then saw it was just the monster hunter.

"Oh, Mister Van Helsing," she said in a relieved tone of voice, fanning herself. "I suppose you must search the forest?"

Van Helsing nodded. "Well, yes, I must. But before that..."

"You want to speak to Hertis? He tells all the neighborhood boys the story f his encounter with the frightening thing in the woods. It must have reached your ears." The woman asked.

"No, actually, I would like to talk to your daughter." He looked at the little blonde girl, who was patiently humming to herself.

The woman looked surprised. "Marishka? All right, but...she is only five, you see."

He nodded. "Yes, I know. And, if you don't mind my asking..." he looked at the girl again. "Why did you name her Marishka?"

The woman nodded. "I cannot say I'm surprised. We are asked that question often." She sighed. "She is named after an ancestor, nothing more."

Van Helsing nodded. "And would that ancestor happen to have been bitten by Count Dracula?"

The townswoman nodded. "Well, yes."

Van Helsing scratched his chin reflectively.

The woman shrugged. "But she was still good to our family. In the years after she was bitten, Dracula and his brides never once harmed our home or family. She may have been a vampire, but she showed true loyalty."

Van Helsing contemplated that. "Very well, you've made a point. May I speak with both of your children? They sound as though they have different sides of the same story to tell."

"Of course, I'll go fetch them," said the mother, and called her children over. Van Helsing glanced at Carl. "Did you hear that?"

Carl nodded furiously. "Yes, I did, and it makes perfect sense. And it provides us with an excellent clue. If this vampire was ferocious to the children, as the boy says, it is a stray vampire. One of no importance. On the other hand.."

"If the vampire was kind to the children, as the girl undoubtedly says ," Van Helsing said slowly, "then it is somehow related to Dracula."

"Precisely," Carl said miserably.

They stood for a moment in horrible silence, then the children came running over.

"You wanted to talk to us, sir?" said the boy, his hair unruly and sounding short of breath.

Van Helsing smiled at them and knelt down to their eye level. He didn't remember being so young, so innocent. It was an interesting feeling. "Yes, I did. I need you two to tell me what is living in this forest."

The boy grinned, excited. "Ooh! Can I tell it first?" he asked eagerly.

Van Helsing laughed. "Go ahead."

Hertis' grin grew wider. "Well, it was a couple of nights ago, and me and Marishka were out in there, and it was dark. Suddenly, swoosh, we heard something in the trees. It was coming after us!! So we hid behind a rock to see what it was. And it was the thing!! That was killing people!! And-"

"Excuse me, but how did you know that was what it was?" asked Carl, sitting beside them.

Hertis stared at him and said, "Because of its big bat wings!"

Carl and Van Helsing exchanged a serious look quickly. Dracula had those.

"All right, then. Continue, please," Carl said somberly.

Hertis nodded. "Well, I saw it land and well, I couldn't really see it much 'cause it was all in shadow, and it turned back to normal, and I didn't want it to get me, so I told Marishka to come with me, but she didn't, and I ran home. And that's all." he finished lamely.

Van Helsing thought, then said patiently, "Thank- you, Hertis, you can go."

The boy grinned again, then ran off into the yard. Van Helsing watched him fondly before turning to the girl.

"Marishka? Will you tell me what happened?" he asked the fair-haired child. She was standing, thinking.

"Umm, yes," she said. Hearing the Transylvanian accent in such young a voice made the men smile. "Well, it was dark outside when me and Hertis got out, and we were walking and we heard the wind. And when we looked over, we saw a bat shadow in the trees. And it went to the ground and stretched its wings and turned back. And Hertis was really scared so he went home. But I wasn't scared."

Carl looked at her sort of pensively. "Why not?"

Marishka shrugged. "I don't know. She saw me and-"

"She?" interrupted Van Helsing, startled. "You mean, this vampire with the bat wings is a- is a woman?"

Marishka nodded. "Yes."

Van Helsing and Carl looked at eachother again, this time confused. Dracula had bat wings, but he was a man. His three brides looked nothing like bats.

"What else?" Carl asked quickly.

Marishka went on: "She saw me and came over, and asked me my name. I told her, and she smiled at me and sat on the rock next to me. She was nice, and she was pretty. She talked to me, and asked me how my family was, and my brother. I liked her."

Marishka looked up. "I like to go and talk to the beautiful lady. She's nice to me." She lowered her voice. "She gave me this and told me to keep it." The young girl held out her hand and in it was a gold earring. It was too fine a thing for any peasant to own.

"What did she look like?" Van Helsing asked.

"She was in a pretty dress and shoes, and she had a kind face," Marishka answered. "Her hair was long and black, and her eyes were brown, and her skin was olive. Like she was from...from China. But her eyes weren't like that." She pulled the corners of her eyes out to demonstrate the appearance of Oriental eyes. "Her eyes were normal, like mine."

"I see." said Van Helsing, then stood up briskly. "Well, Carl, let's head out to the forest. We need to find this vampire, and find her quickly."

He nodded politely at the girl. "Thank you, Marishka, I feel much better now that I know that."

The girl smiled at him, then dashed away, humming.

Carl watched her, then murmured, "I don't understand it, Van Helsing. A female vampire with wings like a bat...obviously not Dracula or a bride. Yet kind only to the family of Marishka. Who was it?"

Van Helsing shrugged. "I wish I knew. Now, come on, Carl; let's find and kill her."

Carl shuddered. "Quite right. I'm coming!"

Van Helsing lifted once more the bag of tricks for their foe and trudged on towards the shade of the forest, Carl at his heels, nervous.

**I**t was evening by the time they reached the centre of the forest. Van Helsing walked over to a huge tree and leaned against it.

"We've been walking for a while. What do you say we take a break?" he asked Carl, who nodded wearily. He wasn't as physically inclined as Van Helsing was.

"Now, where do you suppose she could be?" he asked, reaching for a jug of water and popping open the lid.

"Well, if my theory is correct, there's no way we'll be able to find it until nightfall," replied Carl. Van Helsing rolled his eyes and took a long drink, then handed the canteen to his friend.

"You don't say. I was thinking that, since this is the area Marishka claimed to see her, she'd be around here." Van Helsing replied, gesturing at the environment.

"That, too," Carl agreed, taking a gulp. "Would you like to check now, before the sun sets completely?"

Van Helsing nodded and stood, stretching, then motioned for Carl to follow. Carl sighed and got to his feet, proceeding him.

Van Helsing walked around the tree. There was a large pile of rocks beyond it, large enough to be a cave. He began walking around it cautiously, peering into the space carefully. The sun had almost set.

Suddenly, he stopped. Carl nearly ran into him.

"What is it?" he asked urgently.

"Come here, Carl," he said, and Carl moved to see what he saw.

"Oh, my God," Carl breathed. "Is it...what is it?"

Van Helsing shook his head wonderingly. "I'm not sure."

Before them was an odd mist, almost an earthbound cloud, shimmering. As they stared upon it, the sun went below the horizon and night fell. The glitter became a mist that seemed to harden into a sparkling mirror. Van Helsing had seen something similar to that only once; the entrance to Dracula's castle.

"Where does it lead?" Carl asked fearfully.

"I don't know." Van Helsing replied, then stiffened in his resolve. "But I do know how to find out." And he stretched out his hand and walked through.

Terrified, Carl called after him. There was no response, and he bit his lip and ran after him.

Behind them, the ominous fog twinkled in the moonlight, then slowly faded into nothing and the forest grew deathly quiet.

**The term 'beautiful lady', used by Marishka for describing the vampire she met in the woods, was actually taken from Bram Stoker's _Dracula_. In the story, Lucy Westenra becomes a vampire after dying and begins to feed upon the children of her town. They are all found sick, lacking blood, and with two small red marks on their throats. Oddest of all, every child afflicted tells those at the hospital they want to go out and play with the 'bloofer lady', who has supposedly been affecting them. Obviously, 'bloofer' is how the little children say 'beautiful'. **


	3. Verona Dracula

**Transylvania, 1521**

**D**id he care about her? Russa would never know. She loved that man more than anything, and yet he did so many things to hurt her. He had once said that beautiful things are only beautiful when they are unhappy. If he kept her because she was beautiful, then he must at least have had a reason for doing these things. She missed so those quiet nights where they would sit in the library at firelight, spending time together. It would be so beautiful, the chess board with its lovely wooden pieces and the tall shadows they threw across the checked spaces. She loved to hold the black king in her hands and cradle it, and he loved watching her do it. Then they would play.

The corners of her mouth twisted into a slight smile as she recalled how, whenever she checked him, he would cover her hand that held the piece she had just moved with his own, and lean in closely and kiss her. Just a soft kiss, but it would last for so long. She used to wonder why he'd kiss her when she was beating him in the game. Then she feared the kisses muddled her senses, for when they broke away, the board always looked differently, and he always beat her. She finally decided, although she had no proof, that he would move the pieces with his other hand, and although that meant cheating, it didn't bother her.

She remembered her favourite game they had ever played. She had checked him, and he had begun to kiss her, and she had kissed him back, but reached for his hand in an effort to catch him. She caught it, and the two of them had knocked the entire board over, the pieces flying. It had almost seemed sad then, but then she realised that they most likely wouldn't have finished the game anyway. They had been caught up in the kiss completely. He had entwined his hand in her hair, cupping her face, bringing her down to the library floor in heated passion. She wrapped her arms around his neck and dropped the chess piece she had been holding. When they broke away, it had been gently. She had thought then that he loved her. Lying in his arms, looking up into his moonlit eyes, she had whispered, "I love you more than I love the stars in the sky."

His expression had changed and he had held her body to his, quietly, and they sat like that for ages, neither speaking or daring break the peace.

Russa looked down at the stone bridge she stood on, then looked up at the night sky in wonderment. The stars twinkled at her, then moon hovered in hesitation. She held up her hand to the moon for a moment as though reaching for it, calling it to come down to her. Her hand fell and her eyes filled with tears, and she looked up at the sweet sky.

She did not realise someone was behind her until she saw a breath by her shoulder, crystals hanging in the air like smoke in the cold night air.

"I felt I might find you here," the voice remarked. She took a deep breath and turned around.

"Vlad," she said quietly. He brushed away a tendril of his hair, and she gazed into his unreadable eyes.

"You seem so spend a lot of time out here lately," he said coolly, looking past her and up at the sky. She saw the pools of moonlight reflected in his eyes, then the stars. She wondered that he was perhaps thinking of that same night, for when he looked back at her, it was with a faint curiosity.

"Y-yes. Well, I...don't like the Castle as much as I used to." She stammered, and shivered as a winter breeze swept past her exposed neck.

He gave her _that _look, the one that made her feel transparent before him.

"You have lived there for thirty two years," he said slowly, his lips curving into a smile. He obviously thought her statement absurd. "And you don't like it?"

"I think I am allergic to Verona's perfume," she said, wrinkling her pointed nose. He chuckled and crushed her waist to his body, smelling her hair.

"Although it is true that hers is much more blatant than your own, I must say that that is not a logical reason for keeping outside so often. I have missed you," he said, his voice containing with it a hint of humour.

"You're right," she giggled. "I should have said I was allergic to Verona"

He drew back, shaking his head at her. "You and your fits of jealousy," he chided with amusement. "She's only been here for a short while, the other two even less." He failed to mention how he had been consumed with that same emotion himself when they had been young and she had had her heart stolen away by...someone else.

"I know..." she started, then shut her eyes. She wouldn't finish the sentence. He put his arm around her and they began to walk off the snowy bridge.

"I would think you would find it cold," he remarked, admiring the picturesque effect of snowflakes caught in her eyelashes. "It's mid-winter, and it is, after all, the middle of the night."

"I have always loved the winter," she said softly, her gaze loosing focus once more. "You came for me in winter."

He looked at her, feeling a stirring of something that was most certainly not indifference. How odd it was... "Yes, I did, didn't I?" he murmured.

They continued their walk. He looked at the deadly icicles hanging from the tree branches like Aleera's earrings. He wasn't sure why he took in Verona, then the other two. He hadn't exactly needed anyone else, he hadn't even needed Russa. Was it perhaps the novelty of her, the concept of collecting brides like dolls, that he found so enticing? Maybe it was an addiction he had needed to cure desperately.

He had found Verona in Italy. The daughter of a wealthy businessman, of course, in high society, having grand parties. Her mother and sisters had been content as young girls to be married off, to sit behind a curtain while in the presence of Lords and Ladies and Knights and many other important persons. Verona was not like that. She did not believe in submitting herself to the will of a husband, and although she was the oldest of all her sisters, she never married.

He remembered well the night they had met...it had been during a rainstorm, and he had not wanted to get wet, so he had stopped at a grand mansion to stay for the night. His thick accent and charming nature had appealed to the family, as well as their only unmarried daughter, who seemed ambitious enough. When he told the family of him being a Count, they welcomed him into their home.

He had been given full access to the house. He had repaid them by ensuring that their only daughter not remain an unmarried disgrace, marring their reputation.

He had only needed a night, naturally, to convince her to join him. One night in the library, and just a few words spoken between the two of them....

"_Verona, is it?"_

"_Yes, that is my name."_

"_I like the way it feels on my lips," he had said smoothly, and brought her mouth to his own. "I also like the way _this _feels on my lips."_

She had eyed him all evening. She fell prey to his sweet seductions easily. And now she was all his, and no other mans'.....her will, body, heart and soul belonged only to him.

Looking into Russa's dark doe eyes, he did not think that he could truly say the same about her.

"Russa, why is it you have never joined the Brides and I when we feed?" he asked suddenly, frowning. He had invited her for nights, but she never went, although she said she would.

"The Brides and you..." she repeated, a melancholy tone to her voice. "You make it sound as though I ....am not a bride."

"You know you are my Countess, not my bride. Now, please," he said, clearing his throat.

"Well, I have tried, you see, but you know I always enter the village through that passage in the woods that you have showed me," she stated, "and you never seem to be in the village when I get there."

He frowned and stroked her hair absent-mindedly. "Are you certain of this?"

"Absolutely," she responded, and fell silent. He shrugged.

"Will you accompany us tonight?" he asked as though it was merely an invitation to tea.

"I will need some persuading," she said softly. He chuckled coldly. He had known it. The Count brought his mouth down to her ear and whispered, "How is this for persuasion?"

He kissed the tender skin behind her ear softly, then began to kiss her neck with all the fervor of one who keeps one's lust under perfect control and is thus enslaved to it.

She mewed in pleasure and broke away quickly. "That is fine. I am convinced," she said. He was not surprised. She was unaccustomed to the raw sensuality he so often displayed with his Brides.

"Good." he said, and looked to the foreboding shadow that was his home. She followed his gaze. "Let us tell my brides, shall we? For tonight we feed."

The vampire shifted and stretched his powerful wings, then soared into the sky. Russa sighed, watching the clouds churn, and drew her cloak closer as his might blew winds and ice and snow over her. She did not like that form of his. She never could see any of the man she loved in it.

**I**n her room, Aleera was quiet. She sat before a blank mirror, staring with hollow eyes at the space where her head would be, combing her fiery hair. Behind her, she saw a door open. She could not see anyone, of course, and at that she frowned. But she knew it was Marishka, for the door was thrown open with a bang, and it was thrown all the way open and left that way. She frowned at that, too.

"Aleera!" said the golden haired bride, almost in a purr. If they were all three of them cats, those brides, Aleera felt the Finnish girl would bea lioness, Verona a black panther, and herself a tiger. Marishka was in an exaggerated dancer's pose, which was not surprising. The girl loved to mock the 'stuffy' forms of dance, as she felt that dancing was for self-expression, and thus only very boring people danced so gravely. "We have all been invited out for dinner on the town. Verona is waiting on the staircase. Would you like to come-?"

She stopped talking at the sight of the empty mirror, void of any reflection.

"Oh, Aleera," she sighed, and sat beside her friend and 'younger sister'. She missed being the middle of so many children, as she had been. This place, with the Master, felt like home to her, what with everyone being there. Besides Russa, of course. That girl did not belong to any family Marishka was a part of. "Did you wish to see yourself?"

Aleera nodded, a lump in her throat.

"Trust me. You are beautiful, Aleera," the blonde said, brushing hair out of the girl's eyes. "Truly. The Master certainly thinks so, or he would not have taken you here. Is that not enough?"

Aleera looked away and put down the golden comb, which her Master had given to her. There were strands of her curls in the teeth, and they were quite beautiful.

"What are we, if the mirror does not even want to behold us?" she asked to the room. Silence enveloped the question and gave no answer.

Marishka hugged her close, and then pulled away, her eyes sparkling. "You're a vampire, a Bride of Dracula. And a hungry one. Dinner on the town tonight!" she whooped, then leapt from her seat and spun around the room. Aleera's own eyes were alight with the prospect and she stood and began to follow the other out.

"Good, Miss Mirror is coming at last!" cat-called Marishka, laughing wildly like an exotic bird. "I hear that even Russa is coming tonight. Isn't that great?"

Aleera took her creature of the night shape and flew down the staircase, past Verona, who also changed, and Marishka lept from the banister and changed just before falling, then did a curvy loop-de-loop around the ceiling before following them out, where they were greeted by the Master.

"Since when is that anything great?" Aleera returned wickedly, and the two shrieked with laughter as they sped through the winter sky.

**O**nly whenVlad came out again, with three screeching white figures, didRussa revert to her batlike- although it was quite unlike his, it was most certainly not feathered like the trios', and in that she took great pleasure- figure and take to the sky, her black wings beating madly against the December winds, her hair around her head like underwater rushes. She caught up quickly, and flew alongside her love, Vladislaus; although on the other side of him was, unfortunately, the white figure of also-dark-haired, cat-eyed, glittering jewel of Italy, Verona Dracula.

She sighed at the way Vladislaus looked at her. Maybe she should have stayed behind...She lowered to fly with Marishka and Aleera, who at least did not compete with her in queue.

**This chapter is naturally named after Threat the First. The other two shall be addressed as well. I'd like to thank my reviewers:**

**LadyValerious: Your story is amazing! I like the part where she first realises that she's under his power...-shivers-I can't imagine what that must be like! Anyway, thanks for checking this out.**

**Midnight Walker: Scorpios shall rule the Earth. We rock! I didn't know you read Van Helsing stuff too, I thought you only checked out my HP stuff. Thanks, though!**

**Lady Vladislaus: It meant so much to me that you reviewed this story. Thank you! I know I sort of did that in my last review, but I mean it. And I can't wait for you to update! Well, yes I can. But don't keep me doing it! I don't like to. You'll see more Russa, she isn't so meek as she seems in this chapter. She has a short temper, too.**


	4. The Fifth Vampire

**Transylvania, 1521**

**I**t was cold. And it was snowing.

"Snow," Gabriel Van Helsing grumbled, shaking his head, watching the snowflakes melt on his leather gauntlet. "Why is it always snow whenever we go through one of those?"

He stepped forward, and found it was snowing a lot. A lot more than it had been before he stepped through, meaning they were not in the same place. He shook a boot free of snow, and then took a look around. It was the same area, though, which could only mean...

"Oh, Gods," breathed Carl from behind. Van Helsing turned to face him, momentarily startled. He hadn't realised the young friar had followed. It was plain, judging by the look on his face, that Carl understood the situation, too.

"Van Helsing, do you know what this means?" he said, his voice betraying his feeling of panic. "We're in another time!"

He looked around at the winter scene, and shivered. "And it's dark."

Van Helsing's hand went to his crossbow and he took a step, hearing the snow crunch beneath his feet. "Do you suppose we're in the future?" he asked, looking around the forest for any dark, moving shapes that might indicate trouble.

"I would," said Carl, his voice growing smaller, "if it weren't for that!"

Van Helsing followed his gaze, then his mind took in what he saw.

"Damn it," he growled. In the sky was a dark blot, and beside it were one, two, three white shapes, much to big to be snowdrifts. He notised with a frown another figure underneath it, black like the Count, yet slender like his brides. He did not have time to ponder that thought, though- the group was headed towards the village of Vaseria!

"Come on, Carl!" he said, and started to run. The snow slowed him down and made the run a sluggish crawl, and he glared at it as though it would vanish if he glared hard enough.

"No!" Carl yelled after him, his voice sounding distant in the wintry wind. "You can't kill them! It would ruin the future!"

"I can't let innocent people die!" shouted Van Helsing, frustrated.

"You don't have any choice!" Carl begged.

Van Helsing stopped and slung his crossbow over his shoulder in defeat, grudgingly. "Okay," he said finally. "But we're heading to that village anyway. We need to know what's going on."

Carl nodded meekly, and fought against the snow to join him. Van Helsing watched him for a while with a growing smile on his face before he grabbed the friar by the shoulder and dragged him along.

**T**he sound of the villagers screaming and the brides cackling was more than enough to make Carl want to turn back, but Van Helsing trudged on. All the friar could do was follow.

Van Helsing insisted on going as near to the vampires as he possibly could, but at a certain point, his companion refused to budge. Van Helsing rolled his eyes and moved closer. He was a professional, and he realised that it was a very bad idea, what he was doing. For some reason, however, he was just dying of curiosity to find out who that fifth vampire had been, why Dracula had gone out to feed with his brides, and he half-hoped he would be spotted. He still wanted to know about the alleged 'past' he and the Count shared.

It haunted him at nights even more than his original dreams had. He still dreamed of those battles, the echoes of the dying and the screams of the living, the crying, the groaning, and his bloodied hands while everywhere, the scent of blood reigned. He still dreamed of the dark moon covered in shadows, sneaking out like a young gypsy girl going to have her fortune read. And was that tall figure in the dark, was he, was Dracula the fortune teller or the fortune being told? Sometimes, to Gabriel, it seemed like both.

He saw a glint of silver in his eyes, a hint of deviousness, something that whispered to Gabriel that something was not right...

That was when the dreams changed. That was when they became the accumulation of the things he did know and wished he hadn't, for then Dracula would open his mouth and say his name, over and over and over again: Gabriel. Gabriel, Gabriel...

Van Helsing shook himself, and peered out from behind a fallen wagon at the group. Swooping madly, screaming in laughter, was Marishka, the first bride he had killed. Her Turkish garb fluttered in the breeze and he fathomed how it was that she was not cold. She did a somersault in the air, then landed on a rooftop; she ran off and leaped from it, transforming in time to save herself from a fall. She passed Aleera in the air; the red haired bride, the one who Carl assured him had been killed by Anna, before Anna was killed by...

He shook himself again and focused on Aleera, whose mouth and chin were stained crimson before her tongue licked it off and she grinned viciously at the running villagers. She landed on the ground and her wings folded and fell, as though she were moulting, by her side limply, where they hung like clothes until they pinkened and became her long rose dress, the corset making her voluptuous. She hissed at passersby and chased a few for fun, then Van Helsing lost interest and his watchful expression became fixed on Verona. She had long, black hair, although it would have seemed dark brown up close, he assumed. She was composed, but her eyes held a wild light. Her pale green dress was something she wore like royalty, and she ran and jumped into the air, then changed and soared, roaring with pleasure, into the sky, flying a distance away. A scream was heard, and Van Helsing crossed himself and muttered another Latin phrase for the poor soul she had found.

He ceased to look at the brides, and instead his eyes found the face of Dracula, who stood in the middle of the street in human form, watching the chaos with the vague interest of one who has just seen his plan executed and it has all gone accordingly. He seemed to be there merely to supervise, for he ate nothing. He called to Aleera something that was seemingly vampiric humour, as she giggled and traced a figure eight in the air and flew around Marishka. Dracula watched them, pleased, then turned to the shadows.

Out stepped another figure, a young woman with her dark, lightly curled hair partly in an elaborate design around her head, partly cascading down her back. She wore a regal dress, with huge bell sleeves and a large farthingale. The outfit was entirely black, but it had a soft gold sheen, and it looked to be all of velvet. Her delicate golden jewelry caught the light in her deep eyes, and her olive skin reminded him of a portrait he'd once seen of an Egyptian princess. She walked over to Dracula and gazed at him imploringly, and she held onto his arm and whispered something into his ear. He looked delighted by the fact and motioned in the direction she'd come from.

Van Helsing was immediately furious with himself for vowing to pay no more attention to Verona, who pulled out a kicking and genuinely terrified Carl.

"Damn it!" Van Helsing growled for the second time that night. It was sure to not be the last.

"Well, well, my little friend," Dracula addressed the friar formally, a smile on his lips. He acted like a conductor whose song has been performed beautifully. "You're not from around here. What brings you to Transylvania?"

Van Helsing thought quickly, and stepped out from his hiding place. "I brought him here," he said to the vampire evenly.

Dracula turned to him. By the look on his face, Van Helsing suspected that the Count had been expecting another holy man, and was pleasantly surprised by the fact. But his face contorted in confusion. "Gabriel!" he shouted, and strode over to him. "It can't be you!"

"It can," Van Helsing replied, wishing he sounded like he had during that period of time, although he knew nothing about himself during that period of time, and so could not pass verdict.

"You have returned so quickly?" Dracula murmured, stroking his upper lip in perplexion. Marishka and Aleera landed behind him, and glanced over in confusion, unsure of what to do. The townspeople quieted, although restless in their homes. Verona gathered the two brides and consulted with them furtively, not knowing what to do or how to assist them. Only the golden bride- if she was a bride- remained alone and unmoved, although she looked at him with a deep curiosity that he sensed he could not quench.

"Why would you do such a thing? I see no reason- unless.." he looked back at the brides, his eyes lingering on the fourth.

When he looked back at Van Helsing, his eyes were alight with a sort of rage that Van Helsing had seldom seen there.

"She is mine," he said, glaring. "They all are! They knew what was to become of them when I offered them!"

Van Helsing, who did not have a faint clue about his reaction (and very much wanted to know, but wanted to wait until he had the upper hand to reveal his ignorance and amnesia), said calmly, "That is fine with me. Just return to me Carl- the friar- and I think I'll leave."

Dracula narrowed his eyes. "I think not. You never settle for less than all of what you want."

Van Helsing shrugged. "Nothing is worth the life of my friend."

Dracula considered and quickly snapped his fingers to Verona. "Verona," he called, a smile back in place, "Return to Gabriel his little friar."

Verona nodded, a smirk on her own plump crimson lips, and half-carried Carl, who was whimpering, to Van Helsing, where he stood and scrambled behind the taller man as soon as he realised he was no longer held by the Bride.

"I suppose I'll see you again soon," Dracula said with an imperious smile as Verona, Marishka and Aleera changed and took to flight. "After all, my Winter Masquerade Ball-"   
"Figures," muttered Carl.

"-is coming up in Budapest this next Friday, and you have never been able to resist dancing." He did a curious thing then, and lowered his voice so that only Carl, Van Helsing and he could hear what he added: "At least, you cannot resist dancing when Russa is around." He looked back at the golden Bride. "She is my Countess this time, however," he adjoined, and that fact pleased him greatly.

Then he took a few steps away, smiled charmingly at Van Helsing, and changed into his black bat form, albeit a bat with a fifteen foot wingspan.

"Come, Russa!" he called to the remaining Bride, who looked at Van Helsing with a single penetrating gaze, and then transformed, her eyes growing pale and her dress becoming a brown-black second skin like that of a bat. Her ears lengthened and met with her braided hair, forming long ears like a bat's. Out from her arms, where so much heavy velvet material was gathered, ripped wings, and she flew into the sky, her hair flying behind her.

"Come on, Carl," Van Helsing said suddenly. "We're going to Budapest."   
"Why doesn't that surprise me," Carl grumbled, brushing off snow.

**The Fifth Vampire, not to be confused with The Fifth Element, is naturally referring to Russa, as Van Helsing sees her when he finally does. I don't mean to favour Marishka over the other two, or like Verona any less than her or Aleera. I just haven't had them in my chapters often, anyway, so you'll understand that it's hard to get equal bride time. I love all three. They rock! How could one choose a favourite?**

**I'd like to thank my reviewers once more(and look at their names! They all start with 'Lady', and there are three, like the brides or something!): **

**Lady Count: Glad you could relate. Are you a fanfiction writer here, with a pen name? That's the only thing that I am bothered by in anonymous reviews, I just don't understand that aspect.**

**Lady Vladislaus: You are too kind. I can't wait, thank you so much for telling me about that stuff in the review. I get to brag how I know a little bit more than the other readers of 'Cursed' now!**

**LadyValerious: You really don't have to read my other things, they're all pretty bad. I'm happy that you like this story! I was hoping you would, since I liked yours so much!**


	5. Marishka Dracula

**Transylvania, 1521**

"**D**id you see those fools?" laughed Marishka as the four girls swooped into the Castle, Aleera tittering and Verona smirking smugly. "They acted as a herd of scared animals!"

"Or scared children," added Aleera, eyes glittering.

Verona nodded, then turned to the last girl. "It was fun. Don't you think so-?" Russa looked strange and shaken, as though she'd woken from a dream she didn't remember having but knew she'd had before.

"What's wrong?" asked she, frowning, stroking the collar of her dress.

"Oh, I just…" Russa began, but shook her head and sighed, then reached her hands up and let her hair down. It fell just below her shoulders.

Dracula flew in and changed as he landed. "My Brides," he exclaimed, and the three rushed to greet him, all of them purring and kissing him, mewing like cats.

He petted the three each on the head and Russa looked over, disgust unmistakably written on her face. The vampire looked at her with a smirk, amused. Hewinked at her as though to invite her to join the Brides.

'Go on,' he seemed to say, 'why don't you come and fondle me, Russa?'

"Oh, stop it," Russa scowled out loud, and turned on her heel stomping out of the room. Aleera gave a noise of indignance, Verona a growl and Marishka snickered, and Dracula merely smiled, arms around the three women so hopelessly infatuated with him.

He almost laughed as he heard the door to her room slam from above. He looked to the ceiling warmly, then turned his attention back to the three.

He found it interesting to have each of them so close to him at the same time. It made for perfect comparisons. Verona, with her strong perfume, something sophisticated and almost overpowering, stood out the most, and Russa had once asked if her favoured her above the other two. He had laughingly replied that if that were the case, he would not have gotten more than her. Aleera wore an interesting sugary floral that was by far the least heavy, and Marishka wore something obnoxiously scented, reminding him of citrus and seaweed.

Ah…Marishka had always loved the sea. She was Finnish girl; her family had been there for a while. But she had traveled more than them. They stayed in Transylvania; she sailed on great ships with men, wearing trousers and shirts, getting more tanned than she would have normally. She drank and cussed like the best of them, but she was a kittenish girl by nature. She went into piracy, wanting excitement in her dreary life, where she was expected to become a housewife. "Ha," she'd said, "I don't want to marry a house! And the men you want me to marry are even more boring than that!"

He hadn't even really wanted to go onto the ship, but he'd needed to travel and he had to bring things with him. His black garb was such that it allowed him to sneak in anywhere, and he'd sneaked out from below the deck to feed when he notised the stormy sea. And that it was only sunset, which meant it was very bright.

He'd seen a curvy figure standing tall and erect, watching the waves try to steal the vessel. Dracula shut his eyes. He remembered it all perfectly- the gold in her hair, the round shape her mouth had shown as she turned to look at him in surprise, and that fury she'd demonstrated as she drew her sword and made to impale him upon it. He'd deprived her of her sword and stolen a kiss form her that he knew she didn't mind, but she enjoyed the challenge, the thrill. And it didn't hurt that he was handsome and spoke in a foreign accent and knew of things she'd only dreamed….And then he won her over, no insanely coy winks from across a dinner table, like with Verona, but a few exchanged words as the sun died on the horizon.

"_I've sailed across the oceans," she boasted, tossing her blonde curls over her shoulder arrogantly. "Beat that!"_

_His lips curved into a smile and he stepped up to her. "I've flown," he retorted. "Beat that…" And then those smiling lips were upon hers, and she gave in completely, the curiosity and desire for something more than the futile attempt at an adventurous life making her blood rush, her yearning for him making her knees grow weak. And then his lips were on her neck, and she gave a whimper, and was his…_

Ah, it had been so simple…his lips parted briefly, and he laughed a bit.

"My Lord?" questioned Aleera, childlike confusion no her delicate face. He shook his head and walked away, Verona giving a cry of disappointment.

He walked upstairs and into his room, where he leaned against the door in silence. His thoughts went back to an encounter with his harem, of sorts, a while back. He had told them he'd be going on a trip and asked what gift each one wanted him to bring back for them.

"_Verona," he'd asked courteously, solemnly. The bride, from her seat, had looked up with a haughtily bored look on her face. _

"_Yes?" she asked innocently. _

''_What do you want for me to bring for you?" he asked, kneeling before her. By the way her teeth were bared and her face flushed, he could tell that she was thoroughly pleased at being asked._

_She turned to him with a beguiling smile gracing her scarlet lips. "Bring to me, Master, a golden necklace with a pendant of jade from China, carved in the shape of a dragon, the colour of the first leaf in spring."_

_He had taken her hand and kissed it, then walked over to Marishka, bowing deeply before her, a grin tugging at his mouth. "Lady Marishka Dracula," he said deeply, "What is it you would like?"_

_Marishka thought, then said, "Bring to me a golden ring- not too fancy, but not plain at all- with diamonds and topaz set into it- topaz containing within it all the light of the fiery setting sun!"_

_He inclined his head. "Consider it done."_

_Marishka laughed and held her hand to him like a lady, and said in a ridiculous voice, "I'll consider it done when it is glittering on my finger!" He had taken her hand and laughed, and she had laughed as well, then he had turned to Aleera, who was watching with a sort of pout on her face._

"_Sulking, my dear?" he had asked, sauntering towards her. "Tell, what you do want?"_

_She had obviously planned that one out. "I want your love," she replied mournfully._

_His dangerous smile and silence told her to reword it. _

"_I would like a ruby necklace. Red, you know, is the colour of passion," she said slowly. He leaned down and kissed her, which she accepted eagerly. "It shall be yours," he had murmured, then left tot find Russa…._

Dracula turned away and opened the door, then ventured out and into Russa's room silently, where she sat on the floor, her skirts spread out around her legs, beside her bookshelf, a large book open in her lap. Her brow was furrowed and she was concentrating.

She had taken off the sleeves of the gown- attachable sleeves, really, what an idea- and left her shoulders bare. The subject of the book she read delighted him. It left him with a feeling of refreshment.

"_Russa," he had said, approaching her._

_She had turned towards him, and he had asked from where he stood a few feet away stiffly, "What would you like?"_

"_Bring a string of black pearls." She looked away. He was amazed at how quickly she had said it. He walked towards her, smoothing his hair. Then he knelt before her and took her hands in his, brushing his thumbs against her knuckles._

"_Someday," he said, looking up into her dark, clouded eyes, "You and I- only us, without the others- will go and we will visit the sea together." She had pulled him up by way of accepting him and he had kissed her softly…_

He kneeled beside the reading girl and put his arms around her waist, kissing her shoulder, then her neck. She took a breath, startled, and tried to turn to look at him, but found she couldn't.

"Reading of the Arabian Nights, no?" he muttered into her ear.

"Sometimes I feel like Schaharazade," she replied quietly.

He was taken aback, which wasn't really so terrible, but it was a change. He was usually at the top of his game.

"Why is that?" he asked, standing, bringing her with him.

"Why don't you go ask the rest of your harem you murdered me to be with?" she replied laconically, and stepped away from him. He watched her walk away.

"You're being jealous again," he told her, unfazed.

"You told me we'd be together forever," she answered, equally calm, looking back at him for a moment. "If I had known I would have to share forever with three other women, I would never have agreed to it."

She knelt down and picked up the fallen book lovingly, brushing the dust off and putting it back on a shelf. She stood on her window and allowed herself to fall forward. His eyes widened and he rushed to the window, looking down at her. She had transformed and she flew away, up and away, into the night. He sighed and walked swiftly from the room. He didn't really have the time for that sort of thing…

**This is named after Threat the Second. I always saw wild and crazy Marishka as being a pirate sort of girl, although a very flirty one. (How could she not be flirty in that top!?) A plot is being developed- actually, I've already got my plot, so… I'm listening to music from the soundtrack right now.**

**I'd like to thank my reviewers for their comments: **

**Whitney (LadyValerious): Finally you can say I have five chapters. And I'm working on chapter 2 of Son of the Devil. You're in luck!**

**Lady Vladislaus: I only can because I'm the most sarcastic thing on the planet.**

**Gica (SilverFlover): Hey! You reviewed! I'm so happy! While my Russa can't hold a candle up to your Agnes, I'm still glad you liked her. **

**Kayla: Oh, I shall, I shall, and I've already planned the sequel's start and ending out. It's the middle I don't know yet.**

**Agnes Fey: Oh, neither can I!! I think everyone should read tangled triangles like this one, heehee…No, Russa's actually a bit of a pain. I always hate my Ocs when I compare them to the brides, though, I don't know why.**


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